


inchoate

by Drbwho



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Romance, insular solas, shameless smut after the first few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drbwho/pseuds/Drbwho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A piece, a fragment, an anchor. He tensed as he felt it first, and tensed further when he saw what it was attached to. A person, an elf, glowing from the arm, and she did not even seem to <i>notice it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	inchoate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [There's a wolf inside those woods]

At first she could not hear. The sounds were muffled, by the rock and then by what she assumed were the lingering effects of whatever loud noises accompanied whatever put her where she was. After she could hear again she found she could not move, not until strong sets of arms pulled firmly then more gently, the cries of caution clear now to her ears as they worried over injuring her further. Surprised sounds rang out, _we have a live one_ , someone yelled while another ran to seek out a medic, a healer, anyone who might help.

They kept her there, half upright for several long moments, until she was able to focus her eyes enough to look around. There were bodies, the dead strewn about haphazardly, some covered in tarp and others not tended to yet. The air around her was hazy with particle debris, and she relaxed a little when someone placed a mask to her mouth. Deep breaths battled vertigo and disarray, and she winced as she was swiftly reminded of recently being underneath something terribly heavy.

A building, as it turned out.

A tall one, almost a true skyscraper in height if she could remember it correctly, was decimated, and her first thought was that there really ought to have been more rubble. It was a large enough pile to be sure, but somehow she assumed a larger heap would have been left. Still, they’d had difficulty prying her out of it from what she could tell, carefully lifting the blocks of cement that half covered her, muttering to themselves in wonder at her continued existence.

No one should have survived that collapse, they'd told her in no uncertain terms. After the conviction was uttered aloud she saw the change acutely; the ones around her shifted so very quickly from astonishment to wariness. _How?_ How could she be alive? They asked with narrowed stares, with wringing fingers, and finally, with words.

The questions flooded as soon as she was able to stand on her own, still flanked by men who looked more like officers than rescue workers. They asked her where she’d been when it happened, why she’d been there, how she was still alive. Their interrogation did not cease, even after they received no answer to their first or second or third. It was not malice or confusion that halted her response, although her entire form groaned, sore and spent. It was nothing at all that stopped her.

She simply remembered nothing. There was a light, green and blindingly bright, one so strong she could still nearly taste it. There was a soft voice, and a sharp one, and then there was darkness.

They weren’t terribly happy with that answer. Of course those who carried her from the smoke and remnants did not tell her they weren’t pleased. Instead, they took her to a cell and locked the door. They set a guard to watch, they ignored her cries.

It was not until what seemed like hours after, when the fruitlessness of her attempts to free herself became painfully transparent, that she felt the ache in her hand. It was a different hurt than the one she felt anywhere else, and somehow more vibrant. It pulsed, and she felt an odd strength. When night fell it seemed to glow, a faint tint of that same green she remembered from the collapse.

She sat at last, now that she had a more accessible mystery in her midst. Her right hand palmed the left, turning it over as if it might have been some foreign object to study and not an appendage of her own. Her fingers curled, slowly, each joint moving at an infinitesimal pace as she craned, leaning in to see the indistinct light better.

It sparked, then, and she gasped. It hurt, and the hurt seemed to spread out from her bones, or perhaps from the very cells that made up her extremity. Was this some strange magic employed by her captors? She’d never seen such a thing before, although her knowledge of such magic was woefully limited. But she could feel it, so strongly, throbbing through her fingers and palm with a life that was not her own. It was almost tangible, the sensation, as if she could reach inside herself and pull and pull and it would be there.

She could feel it, and-

 

 

-he, he could feel it too, thrumming and buzzing along his skin, causing his teeth to chatter and his lungs to suck in a bit too much air. He'd watched from the shadows, an unknown face among the rest of the curious onlookers; no one in particular. The point of his ears made it easier to be ignored in this age, and that suited his purpose just fine. He would utilise the anonymity, curve it to his needs.

It had called to him after, after he thought all was lost. Feet carried him to the evidence of the demolished building to discover just what had gone wrong with his plan. He’d been careful, or so he thought. There was no way anyone would be able to unlock it, there was no harm in giving the foci a little push. Where was the harm in it?

Of course, he’d made mistakes before. The one at hand might pale in comparison to his last. But, then again…

He stayed, he observed with the rest of the gawkers, eavesdropping as casually as one so invested was able. Apathy lived on his face even as his insides crawled, ever the mask-wearer, until, _until._

A piece, a fragment, an anchor. He tensed as he felt it first, and tensed further when he saw what it was attached to. A person, an elf, glowing from the arm, and she did not even seem to _notice it._

The rest of the orb was gone for the moment, but this, he could save this, even if the one who kept it could not be saved. He picked up his pack, fingers gripped his walking stick, and he followed.


End file.
